The Milk Memoirs

One part chronicle, one part resource of all things breastfeeding and family life…with a good dose of fun,crafts & mommy realness

When last have you had your heart broken?

Leave a comment

upload-in-fb-broken-heartToday my heart broke…into little itty bitty pieces. And I really didn’t know what to do.
I was at a complete loss for the most appropriate reaction to the news being delivered…I was caught completely off guard.
What was it, you ask?
Hubby? Nope, we’re still solid as ever. In the matters of my heart, he manages to still only steal it, not break it…

It was what the news that the teacher at my eldest’s school had to share with me…*gulp*…*Im just reliving the moment there*

As my exuberant silly sausage came running towards me, our usual energetic  embrace was interrupted with the head teacher heading her off the pass and announcing that she had a “little accident today, mommy”… My silver lining mind was hoping for a “poop in the pants” kinda accident, but my older, boring and more cynical mind was like, “ poop? Seriously? Did you not see the look of armegedon on that teachers face? She’s talking real accidents here. Brace yourself, mommy!”.

She proceeded to tell me that she was playing on the jungle gym, standing at the top of the slide, and how another child just pushed her! She went head first to the ground…broke her fall with her face.


So many shades of emotions surging through my head at the time. I glanced at my precious girl and the bruises and knobs were now obvious, but she smiled back at me. Excitement radiating from her face despite its bashed up state, so I figured she couldn’t be too damaged. This helped my anger levels drop a bit.The teacher apologized, I tried to be understanding. I know they try their best. I like her teachers. They simply cant be everywhere all the time.

She continued to explain. And my emotional dial swung to highly pissed-off. I wanted to kick that little asshole kid’s butt for hurting my smally. How could he?!Shes so gentle and kind with the other kids. She’s a silly sausage, yes, but kind and caring– and that’s not just my opinion as her biased mama.

Then reality and logic reigned over me a split second later. He’s a kiddy, a schmally,just like mine. (Perhaps, with just with a hint of douchebag in him, though. But THATS probably the biased mamma me talking) I know which kid it is- she told me. He’s a cutie, even though somewhat cookoo.

I felt aplethora of agitated emotions. Doing my level best at keeping my reaction measured and reasonable.

But mostly I felt just sad. Really, reaally sad. Absolutely heart broken at the harsh reality that I just can’t protect her all the time…my little baby. Out in this big world there are mean people. No matter how nice you are, there are people out there that exist just to be douchebags. This is a reality as old as time. And it was breaking my heart that this little precious and innocent bundle of mine will have to learn this too…The fact that that she’s having to learn it at such a tender age – she’s only two, not yet three – is just all part of the heartbreak I was experiencing.

Greatest joy: Oh, to wrap my arms around you, protect you and keep you.

Greatest joy: Oh, to wrap my arms around you, protect you and keep you…without being like Nemo’s dad, of course

It bothered me so much though – my reaction. Was it appropriate? Was it enough? Is this how a good parent should react? Am I too soft? Did I not react enough? Am I doing my daughter an injustice by being so understanding? Then I started really dissecting the situation. Removing my bias, and looking at the facts and flaws of the situation.

Simultaneously, I also understood that my frustration with my reaction was based on my helplessness of the situation. That I was not there to catch her when she literally fell. That I was not there to reprimand that kid for his reckless behaviour. That I wasn’t there to stop the situation before it even happened. *Damnit*

The situation was done and dusted, and yet there’s still me… feeling frustrated. I then realised, as always, this frustration was based in my feeling of helplessness, but that even though I cant stop the fall she had already had, I could try to be proactive about the future.

It was with that the I drew up a letter to the principal addressing and prodding for processes to be put in place to better secure dangerous spots on the playground, and furthermore, to better understand the process that the school follows with the parents of the “perpetrator”.

Whilst this doesn’t quell my heartache of not being able to protect my baby at every corner, nor undo the damage done to her face, it does make me feel less helpless, and less like I “just let it happen” to her. So lets see what the principal has to say.

Will keep you posted. In the mean time I will be picking up the pieces of heart, and do my best to bullet proof it against the realities of life that my children will eventually have to face.

I will reach deeply into the teachings of my parents, particularly that as a parent, your’s is not to protect your children from life, but to rather equip them well enough to successfully deal with it themselves.

Hmmm, they weren’t kidding about parenting being the toughest job you’ll ever have!

*Disclaimer: Despite the text saying that I broke my heart today, technically it was not today. It was back in April. I wrote that post on the day, however, its justs that thanks to life, I only managed to post it today.


Author: mommabeartrax

Mother of two (and counting), pregnant with the third and have a sweet little angel in heaven. A very happy wifey, blogger, lover of life and laughter, a clumsy swimmer, loyal friend, Im funnier in my head than I actually am, I am a qualified HypnoBirthing Child Birth Educator, I get inexplicably excited about good food, baking & crafts. Although, I think baking and crafts are just trying to fill a void that my Kenpo and gym-rat days used to fill. Lastly, according to the rest of the world, I fix your printer. But I'm actually a Software Architect.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s